


We Can Be Heroes

by waddiwasiwitch



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Havolina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6128449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waddiwasiwitch/pseuds/waddiwasiwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Always the sidekicks, never the heroes. That’s about to change for Rebecca Catalina and Jean Havoc!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Written originally for Havolina Day on Tumblr. Well part I was.
> 
> Rating: Teen
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own these precious characters; I’m just borrowing them for a while. Now kiss!!!

_Part I_

Rebecca sighed as the phone rang rousing her from a particularly pleasant dream. She rolled over, pulled the pillow over her head and groaned.  
“Go away,” she moaned.  
The phone continued to ring and she reluctantly put the pillow aside.  
She picked up the receiver.   
"Where the hell are you?”  
“What are you doing calling my room this hour of the morning, Jean?”  
“It’s seven thirty; we were supposed meet here a half hour ago.”  
“What?” Her voice rose. “Shit!! Riza’s going to kill me!”  
“Well that’s the thing; she’s not here either.” He paused, “I tried ringing her room before I rang yours. Her phone is off the hook.”  
“That’s not like her.” Rebecca pulled her suitcase from under the bed. “I’ll check on her before I make my way down. When are we supposed to meet Mustang?”  
“We have an hour.”  
Rebecca pulled her nightdress over her head. Temporarily blinded she moved forward stubbing her toe against the bed post. Hopping on one foot, she cursed.  
“You okay, babe?”  
“Just fine.”  
“Um, Rebecca, are you getting dressed?” Jean’s voice had gone a łittle husky.  
She smiled and said, “Not exactly, I have to get undressed before I get dressed.”  
The only answer she got a splutter as she shimmied into a clean pair of panties.  
“I promised Riza we’d behave on this mission and I know I don’t need to remind you that as long as you have a higher rank, the frat laws apply as technically you’re my superior on this mission,” she continued. “So no hanky panky until the weekend. I promise we’ll make up for it then. I bought something special .”  
“It’s not fair,” he whined.  
“Goodbye Jean!”  
She slammed down the phone with a smirk. She shouldn’t tease him really especially when she had to restrain herself from sneaking out to his room the previous night, but she had promised Riza that she would keep her full attention on General Stick Up His Ass. Grumman had finally announced Mustang as his successor, and while there was no immediate plan for the Fuhrer to step down, the decision was causing a lot of debate. When Mustang was summoned to Central, he was forced to leave behind over half of his team due to prior engagements. He had only been able to bring Riza and Jean with him; that was where Rebecca came in. As the best sharpshooter in Central, she was assigned as a temporary member of the team. She wasn’t going to refuse a chance to spend more time with her best friend and her long distance boyfriend. If she played her part right, she might be able assigned to the Mustang unit permanently.

  
In a record ten minutes, Rebecca was dressed and ready to leave. Riza’s room was just across the hall. Perhaps Riza was still asleep. Mustang had her working hard especially since Grumman had announced him as his intended successor and the poor woman worried to death about him. They needed to be downstairs in time for when His Majesty would turn up.  
She knocked on the door, “Riza honey, are you ready to go?”  
Frowning, she put her ear against the door and listened hard. She put her hand on the handle was surprised when the door opened slightly. A tingle went down Rebecca’s spine and she reached for her gun. She pushed the door open, her gun pointed before her. Her sense of unease was intensified by the sight of the unmade bed with clothes strewn haphazardly around the room as her friend was by nature extremely tidy and ordered.  
She whirled around, her gun at the ready. “Riza?” she called.  
The door of the ensuite bathroom was ajar, Rebecca walked slowly towards the room. Hands flat against the door, it opened at her touch. Toiletries were lined up on the sink, but there was still no sign of Riza. 

Rebecca rushed from the room, not bothering to wait for the lift, she took the stairs two steps at a time. Jean was waiting the foyer, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. Rebecca was mildly relieved that Mustang wasn’t there. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him Riza was missing. Still, it didn’t help her anxiety much.  
“Jean, tell me you’ve seen Riza since we spoke on the phone.”  
Jean blinked. “No – was she not in her room?”  
“Why else do you think I asked?” She regretted her temper the moment the words slipped out. She took a deep breath. “Sorry - I’ve just got a bad feeling. The room is a mess and the door was unlocked. You know how Riza is.”  
“I’m sure there’s a rational explanation.” Jean put his hands on Rebecca’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. She leaned into his touch briefly before he let her go. “Let’s talk to the concierge.”  


The pair walked over to the front desk, where a man was talking on the phone. He gestured apologetically and Jean tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently.  
The clerk put down the phone and turned to the soldiers. “How can I help, Lieutenants?”  
“Have you seen Captain Hawkeye this morning?” Rebecca asked.  
The man shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Is there something wrong?”  
“Let’s hope not.” Jean met Rebecca’s gaze. He turned back to the clerk, “May I use your telephone?”  
“Sure.” He handed the receiver to Jean, who reached into his pocket to pull out a piece of paper.  
Dialling the number written on the slip, Jean whispered to Rebecca, “I’m just checking if the boss has left or not.”  
She shook her head. “I have a really bad feeling about this. Riza wouldn’t just disappear; it must be something to do with Mustang. Every bad thing that happens Riza has something to do with that man.”  
“That’s harsh,” he said with a frown.  
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not saying it’s his fault.”  
The damn phone was still ringing!  
It took several rings for the phone before there was a gruff response.  
“Hello, Madam Christmas - who’s this?”  
Jean tensed up suddenly. “Hello Madam, it’s Lieutenant Jean Havoc.”  
“You’re looking for Roy boy!”  
“We are supposed to be meeting the General in thirty minutes and we were wondering if he has left already.”  
“No – he hasn’t been down to breakfast yet, but that idiot skips breakfast much too often to be healthy.”  
“Can you keep him there?”  
Jean heard the surprise in the woman’s voice. “I’ll see what I can do.”  
Rebecca pressed up against him and grabbed the phone from his hand. “Is Riza there?”  
The receiver was still close enough for Havoc to hear the hearty chuckle on the line.  
“Not unless she snuck in during the night.”  
Rebecca sighed and gave the phone back to Jean.  
“We are going straight over to you, Madam. Tell the General to wait for us.”  
“I won’t ask you to tell me over the phone, but I will be asking for an explanation when you turn up on my doorstep.”  
“We understand that, Madam."  
He replaced the receiver and turned back to the clerk, “Thank you. May I speak with the manager?”  
The man’s eyes widened. “Let me go into the office.”  
“What are you doing?” Rebecca asked.  
Jean didn’t get a chance to answer as a man came out of the office. His hair was neatly parted as was his moustache.  
“I’m Mr Burns,” said the man proffering his hand. “How may I help you officers?”  
Havoc shook the man’s hand and leaned in lowering his voice to a whisper. “We have reason to believe a crime may have been committed in your hotel. Can I ask for you to send a member of staff to Captain Hawkeye’s room to secure it and report anything unusual. We will send someone back shortly. I’m sure that you understand the need for utmost secrecy.“  
The manager nodded. "Of course.”  
Jean looked at Rebecca, who was biting at her lip nervously. “Let’s go!”  
“Give me the keys, Jean. I’m driving!”  
“What? Why?”  
“Honey, you don’t want to piss me off today!”

 **To be continued**


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Summary: What happens when the sidekicks have to step it up and be the heroes. Riza Hawkeye is missing. Can Rebecca and Jean find her?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Rating: Teen for potty mouths**

_Part II_

The car journey to Madam Christmas’ bar was tense. Rebecca had hoped driving would help with her frayed nerves, but her brain was helpfully providing her with worst case scenarios - images of her best friend crying or bleeding or dying. 

The smoke from Jean’s cigarette was not helping much either. Jean had lit his cigarette much to Rebecca’s disgust, but it was his car as he had pointed out when she had opened her mouth to protest. It was bad enough having to kiss an ashtray without having to breathe it in too. Even her usually successful dirty looks were not working. But then, she really couldn’t begrudge him a little nicotine given the circumstances.  
She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Mustang’s going to freak when he finds out.”  
“I know,” he said. “We all joke when we say we don’t know how he’d manage without her, but it’s true.”  
“Thanks Jean, that’s really comforting,” she snapped.  
“Sorry Becca,“ he said. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t mean it that way. I was just saying.”  
“Yeah – well don’t just say.” She sighed deeply. “But yeah I know. The feeling’s mutual. Talk about codependent!”  
“Has Riza ever told you much about their past?”  
“No – she keeps it to herself mostly. I just know that they knew each other when they were kids and that they met again in Ishval.”  
She spotted the bar up ahead. “Finally,” she muttered, pulling into a parking space a few yards from the door. 

Jean opened his door before Rebecca had a chance to put the car in park. He made for the front entrance, but Rebecca grabbed his arm.  
“It would be better to enter from the back,” she whispered. She jerked her head in the direction of the street running perpendicular to the bar. “If we take that side street, we can get inside without being seen.”  
“You seem awfully familiar with the place,” Jean commented.  
“I moonlight as a bar tender.“ She rolled her eyes. “I’ve had to drop the Fuhrer here on occasion when he gave his bodyguard the slip.”  
They walked down the cobbled street, which was thankfully empty. Jean kept his eyes peeled all the same.  
Rebecca knocked rapidly on the door, and Madam Christmas answered the door with a worried expression.  
“I thought you’d never get here, come inside.” She practically pulled them in the door. “Quick!”  
Exchanging worried looks, Rebecca and Jean entered into the hallway. It was dark and gloomy inside, the only light from a flickering lightbulb over their heads. Madam Christmas stopped at the bottom of a stairs.  
“What’s going on?” Jean asked. “After I got off the phone, I thought I’d wake Roy boy but when I went to his room, I saw he wasn’t there.”  
“Fuck!”  
Rebecca couldn’t agree more with Jean’s assessment. She had banked on the General knowing exactly what to do, where to start.  
“Hawkeye’s missing too,” Rebecca said.  
She rubbed her arms. _Oh god – what are we going to do?_ This was bad - both Hawkeye and Mustang M.I.A. It had to be linked!  
“I called the Fuhrer,“ said Madam Christmas, “and he’ll be here shortly.”  
Jean grabbed Rebecca’s hand and squeezed it. “Can we check the room to see if we find anything?”  
“Of course.” Rebecca noticed the slightest tremble in the woman’s hands. “It’s the second room on the left. He didn’t leave of his own free will, you’ll see what I mean when you get there.”  


The door was open when Rebecca and Jean climbed to the top of the rickety stairs. Jean walked into the room first, Rebecca at his heels. His mouth gaped open; there was blood spattered on the wall and a puddle of blood on the bed sheet. The window had been forced open and pieces of glass littered the carpeted floor.  
“No wonder she looked so shaken,” Rebecca said, her face pale.  
He turned around to face her and put a hand to her face. “I know it’s scary, but we have to be strong.”  
She nodded and leaned her forehead against his. “It has to be connected. It’s too much of a coincidence.”  
He wrapped his arms around her. “It will be alright. If Homunculi can’t get rid of them, nobody can.”  
“Yeah, and they will be pissed.” Rebecca’s voice was shaking.  
“They need us to figure this out, and I’ll be damned if I let someone else take care of this.“ 

Grumman was downstairs by the time Jean and Rebecca descended.

"We have some bad news, Fuhrer,” Rebecca said. “Riza is also missing, and we believe it must be linked.”

To Rebecca’s surprise the man simply nodded. “I know.”

He looked older than the last time she saw him, and that was only three days ago.

Grumman ran his fingers through his hair. “I received a package this morning just after I got a phone call from Chris. They have taken Roy and Riza hostage in exchange for the release of some spies from Aurego.”

Jean nodded. “So, they took Mustang for political reasons, but why would they need Riza?”

“Because she’s my grand daughter.”

**to be continued**


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the hell happened to Mustang and Hawkeye? What does Grumman know about what happened? Where do Jean and Rebecca go from here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay all. Here is the third chapter of the Havolina fic I started for Havolina Day on Tumblr.
> 
> Rating: Teen (for language and violent imagery)

  
**Part III**  


Rebecca felt like she was in walking nightmare. She had thought it couldn’t get any worse until it did. _Riza, I hope you’re okay._  
She had to keep it together because falling apart wasn’t an option. Fuhrer Grumman was known for his genial personality, which hid a ruthless streak. It was something that Rebecca had encountered on occasion working directly for the man. To see him now floundering when he normally had an answer for everything was disconcerting to say the least.  
He rubbed at his beard with a finger. “My men are trying to get as much information from the package as possible.”  
“What about the hotel?” Jean asked.  
“Another team are at the hotel right now, and they are following me here once they have searched the place for clues.”  
Jean’s forehead was creased. “We’re supposed to be Mustang’s bodyguards. Surely, you’re not going to expect us to stay out it?”  
“That’s exactly what I want,” said the Fuhrer.  
Rebecca cried, “But sir!”  
The Fuhrer held up his hand and closed his eyes, “I’ll explain in due course, but you’ll need to listen first.”  
Rebecca nodded and Jean did the same.  
“Come on into the kitchen,” said Madam Christmas. “I’ll make some tea.”  
The three followed her without saying a word. The kitchen was spacious and there was a large table in the centre of the room. The only sound was Madam Christmas preparing the tea.  
Jean squeezed Rebecca’s hand under the table. Grumman steepled his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them. The older woman brought over a teapot, her fingers trembling slightly.  
Rebecca stood up. “I’ll get the cups if you like.”  
“Yes - thank you,” said Madam Christmas. “First cupboard on the right and there is a tray on the work top.”  
Rebecca felt better being able to do something and she could tell that the older woman was shaken by the day’s events. She piled four cups and saucers onto the tray, and then returned to the table. Jean flashed her a reassuring smile.  
Madam Christmas looked up at Rebecca, “On reflection, I think a dash of brandy might be more helpful, dear. It’s in the third cupboard with glasses on the shelf above it.”  
Jean stood up. “I’ll help you.”  
Rebecca followed the older woman’s directions and reached for the bottle. Jean stood behind her and his right hand squeezed her shoulder.  
“It will be okay,” he whispered.  
She knew he was doing his best to be strong, but she knew him too well. There was a slight tremor in his voice that another might have missed. Her heart swelled with love for this man who trying to be strong enough for both of them.  
“I love you for lying to me,” she said turning to face him, “but I can’t lie to myself. It’s bad, Jean. Taking out the General and the Hawk’s Eye; they had this planned to a tee.”  
She kept her voice low and glanced over Jean’s shoulder at the Fuhrer and Madam Christmas. Both sat silently lost in thought. Jean brushed a piece a hair from her face and she leaned into his touch list in eyes for a moment before recollecting where they were.  
She swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. “You better get those glasses, honey.”

Several minutes later, all four had a glass of brandy in front of them. Jean found his eyes seeking Rebecca as if she could disappear into thin air. She was starring at the table, and he knew this whole situation was killing her. _We have to find them. No – we will find them._  
Madam Christmas was pouring a second glass of brandy, while the Fuhrer’s glass remained untouched. The man was still tight lipped about why he wanted them to stay out of the investigation.  
Jean would bide his time to find that answer, but he had enough of the oppressive silence.  
“What’s so special about these spies?” he asked.  
“That’s something I would very much like to know as well,” said Madam Christmas.  
Rebecca sat forward in her chair.  
“I shouldn’t really be revealing anything,” Grumman said. “Well, i believe that the people responsible for the kidnappings are working on the behest of the monarchy or at very least its governors. This just my best guess and I assure you I have my best and most trusted advisors working on this .”  
“You weren’t wrong about the brandy, Madam.” Rebecca poured herself another glass.  
The Fuhrer scowled and continued, “Of course, this is all being done indirectly as the monarchy don’t want to sully their hands, but we did receive a letter from the Prince asking for the release of one of the spies several months ago.”  
“Cowardly bastard,” Jean commented.  
Madam Christmas made a clucking sound. “Took the words right out of my mouth, boy.”  
“So, what are we going to do?” Rebecca asked.  
“We have to do this as quietly as we can, we can’t send in a military force even if we knew where they were, so we’re going to cooperate with their demands as best we can.”  
Rebecca stood up knocking her chair. “You can’t be serious! This is your granddaughter you’re talking about!”  
The Fuhrer narrowed his eyes at Rebecca and Jean could help but shiver. “Do you really think I could have forgotten?”  
Rebecca’s face and picked up her chair and sat back down.  
“I am the Fuhrer and I have to act as such.” The man’s voice was cold. “We have one week to release the spies. In this time, we will work covertly to find out where Mustang and Riza are being held. Once we do that, well..that’s where you two come in.”  
“What?” Jean and Rebecca chorused.  
With a grim smile, the Fuhrer replied, “You’re going to get them out.”  
“We’ll do whatever it takes, sir,” Jean said.  
The old man nodded. “Good man. We can’t risk going in guns blazing, you do understand.”  
“Riza’s my best friend,” Rebecca said softly, “there’s no way I will come back without her. I promise we’ll bring them both back.”  
“I sure hope so.” Madam Christmas’ smile was weak. “I’ll help in any way I can, the girls will keep their ears to the ground.”  
The Fuhrer patted the woman on the hand, “I would appreciate it, Chris.”  
“What now?” Jean asked.  
“You lie low and wait to hear from me or one of my men.”

  


  
Jean and Rebecca left the bar by the same door they came in. They had been instructed to return to the hotel for now. Both remained silent until they made it to the car.  
Rebecca took the driver’s seat again.  
“All the blood, Jean, what did they do to him?”  
“I guess they went for his hands, the best way to immobilise an alchemist.”  
“Fuckers! Cowards!”  
Normally, Jean took joy from hearing his girlfriend curse like a sailor.  
He slammed his fist on the dash. “Mustang can be so arrogant sometimes. He should have let me come with him.”  
Rebecca sighed. “It’s not your fault, Jean.” She leaned over and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. “I’m kind of glad you weren’t, because..”  
The haunted look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He was expendable; Mustang wasn’t.  
"But I’m fine.” Jean reached for her hands, squeezing them between his. “It’s okay, Becca. They’ve spent years out of sticky situations.”  
He only wished he could believe in his own words.  
“Can we forget about the fact that our relationship is illegal tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”  
“It’s probably best for us to stay together anyway in case the Fuhrer gets in touch.”  
"That’s why I love you - that big brain of yours!”

To be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry more to come.. I hope it wasn’t too disappointing. :)


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grumman sends orders while Rebecca and Jean find out more about the disappearance of their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s back!! Sorry for the delay but this chapter is full of exposition. I struggled a bit with this.
> 
> Rating: Teen
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own these precious characters; I’m just borrowing them for a while. Now kiss!!!

_Part IV_

Sleep did not come easy that night; Jean and Rebecca were too worried. They had barely drifted off in each other’s arms when the phone rang rousing them from their less than peaceful slumber. They both jumped, Rebecca’s head connecting with Jean’s jaw.  
Jean put his hand to his face. “Fuck, Becca!”  
“Sorry baby!” She dropped a butterfly kiss to his aching jaw.  
The spell was broken as the phone rang again. Jean’s stomach plummeted along with his mood as he was reminded of what transpired the day before.   
“Just answer,” Rebecca ordered, but Jean could see the tremble in her shoulders and the worry in her eyes.  
Taking a calming breath, Jean rolled over on the bed and grabbed the phone. Meanwhile, Rebecca crawled across the mattress to listen at his ear while Jean picked up the receiver. She rested her head on his shoulder and he pulled her close with his free arm. Just having her within reach gave him some semblance of peace.   
“Hello!”  
“This is Reception,” said a male voice on the other end. “Is that Lieutenant Havoc?”  
“Yes – it is.”  
“There is an envelope at the reception desk from a Chris Mustang for you. It was hand delivered by a very pretty young woman, who instructed me to let you know right away.”  
“Must have been sent by Grumman,” Rebecca whispered, her breath tickling his ear.  
“There is also an envelope for Lieutenant Catalina,” the man continued. “We haven’t been able to reach her.”  
Jean smiled, he couldn’t help himself. “Becca sleeps like the dead; she probably didn’t hear the phone.” Rebecca elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Don’t worry I will ensure she gets the message.”  
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”  
“Absolutely, we will collect them as soon as we can.”  
As soon as the man on the other end hung up, Jean dropped the phone back on the cradle. Rebecca already had her night dress over her head by the time he turned around.   
Damn! I’m a lucky man.   
“Don’t even think about it, honey.” Rebecca tossed a pillow at his chest. “Just get dressed.”  
Jean caught it and tossed it right back. “We should probably wear civilian clothes.”  
“I agree.” Rebecca said over her shoulder. “Get me my suitcase from my room, would you? I need to take a quick shower before we go down to reception.”   
“I could come in with you,” he said hopefully.   
“Nice try, honey, but then we would be here all day and…”  
The playful tone in her voice trailed off. Jean didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what she meant. He clambered over the bed and embraced her.  
“We’ve gotta be strong, Becca. You know the Boss, he’s not about to let anything bad happen to Riza. And Riza will be too busy protecting him to let anything happen to her. We’ve got to trust them.”  
“I wish I had your faith.” She pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “My key is in my coat.”  
He kissed her on the forehead. 

Five minutes later, fully dressed, showered but not fully awake, the pair took the elevator down to reception. Alone in the elevator, Jean turned to Rebecca.  
Jean arched an eyebrow. “What do you think are in those envelopes?”  
“I guess we’ll know soon enough, but if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say that it must be orders of some sort.”  
Jean nodded and patted his pocket to make sure he still had his cigarettes.  
The elevator doors opened and the pair exited into the reception area. Rebecca walked up to the reception desk, Jean just behind.   
“You have envelopes for Rebecca Catalina and Jean Havoc from a Chris Mustang,” she said in an undertone to the concierge.   
He nodded and disappeared into the back office.   
Rebecca leaned against the desk and yawned loudly. “There is a café next door, we should get a coffee and breakfast if we have time.”  
“Yeah.” His stomach rumbled as if to emphasise the point.  
Rebecca’s lips twitched upward. Food had not been on their mind the previous day given the events. Mirroring her small smile he moved back a few paces closer to the wall, where he could get a good view of the whole room. Jean’s eyes scanned the whole area as he moved. It was mostly empty apart from the occasional sleepy businessman passing through. Still it was best to err on the side of caution in case the kidnappers were having them watched. The sound of the door opening indicated the arrival of the concierge once more.  
Rebecca turned around; Jean could see her shoulders tense up.   
“Thank you.” She took the envelopes from the man, who nodded in reply.  
Jean held his breath as Rebecca turned around and headed towards him.   
“There’s keys in this envelope,” she whispered when she reached him.  
“Let’s take a quick look.” Jean put his hand on the small of her back and led her in the direction of a coffee table and two armchairs in the far corner of the room.  
Rebecca sat and Jean stood beside her blocking anyone viewing what she was doing.  
“Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?” She reached into the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. “Just sit down, you’re making us look more suspicious.”  
Jean sat as she unfolded the piece of paper. “What does it say?”  
“It’s definitely his handwriting,” she said.  
She held out the note to Jean, who almost tore it as grabbed it from her hand..  
09:00 hrs, Mrs G, 10 Bell Avenue. Make sure you’re not followed.  
Jean frowned and read it through a second time. “Do you think there’s hidden code?”  
She smacked him lightly on the arm. “But honey, we already have the key.”  
Jean glared at her but his twitching lips gave his amusement away. “You know what I mean.”  
“No - I’m pretty sure it is straight forward. I recognised the name, I know that address has been used as a safe house before.”   
“You know where it is?”  
With a knowing smile, she inclined her head.   
She handed the other envelope to Jean. “It’s your turn now.”  
Jean opened the envelope carefully. It was larger than the one Rebecca had opened. He looked around carefully before pulling a sheet of paper out.   
Mr and Mrs Smith, use your own first names. Pretend to be newlyweds on honeymoon in Central. Mrs G will provide further information and identification papers. Destroy this note as soon as memorised.   
He chuckled and shoved the note back in the envelope. They could look at them in the car on the way there.  
“What is it?”  
“He’s a sly old fox. Cover stories, false papers. How does the man do it?”  
“He’s a very clever man.” Rebecca smiled. “He likes to pretend he’s an affable old man, but he’s ruthless when he wants something. Besides, we need all the help we can get.”  
Her smile faded with the mention of their mission. Jean clenched his fists.   
WeThose bastards would pay. They were going to get the Boss and Hawkeye back. There was no other choice. The alternative was unthinkable. The same fear was mirrored in his girl’s eyes.  
He reached into his pants pocket for his box of cigarettes. “Do we need to leave now or do we have time to breakfast?”  
“We can spare an hour, it only takes a half hour to get there.”  
Sure enough the timepiece over the reception area said 07:00 hours.  
“Good, I say I have a well earned smoke and then we can get some breakfast. We can go through the papers in the car where there are no prying eyes.”  
“Sounds like a plan.” She smiled, but it did not meet her eyes. “I’ll go ahead and order us breakfast while you’re poisoning your lungs.”

Rebecca let Havoc take the wheel. She wanted to get a good look at the contents of the envelope. She perused the documents with amusement.  
“Mr and Mrs Smith.” She clucked her tongue. “Imagine us married?”  
To her surprise, Jean’s jaw tightened. “You make it sound like it would be a terrible idea.”  
 _Oh shit – I offended him._   
“You’re not house trained,” she joked.  
“Fuck you,” he said.  
“Hey, I’m just kidding,” she said gently.  
“I know.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Sorry, I’m just tightly wound, I guess.”  
“It’s okay.” She patted him on the knee. “I got a bit worried there for a minute. You’re not planning on proposing or anything?”  
He laughed in response, but she spotted the twin pink blotches on his cheeks. “We might need to get rid of that pesky fraternisation law first.”  
Her own laugh was equally unconvincing, at least to her own ears.

  
There was a red car sports car parked in the driveway when Jean’s car pulled into the driveway.  
He whistled. “This place is huge. You could fit three whole houses into it.”  
Rebecca put all the papers back into the envelopes. “I think Mrs Bradley owns it. She and Grumman are pretty chummy for some reason.”  
Jean visibly flinched. “You don’t think they are fucking, do you?”  
“No – I don’t think so. But thanks for the visual.” She punched him hard on the arm. “Come on, let’s go inside.”  
Rebecca’s nerves were jangling. She hoped that there was some sort of breakthrough.  
 _I need to be doing something. Anything._   
Her best friend has always been there for her, and right now she needed her more than ever.   
Jean walked around the car and opened the door for her.   
“Who are you and what have you done with Jean Havoc?”  
“We might as well get into character, right?” His breath was warm on her ear as he whispered.  
He offered her his arm and the pair made their way to the front door. Rebecca subtly took in her surroundings, scanning the area for any nosy neighbours or passers by. Nobody appeared to be watching and she let herself relax a little. There was a small but beautiful garden around the front of the property with red and white roses. The driveway was filled with pebbles, and they crunched under their feet as they walked to the front door. Rebecca knocked on the door, her stomach was knotted in worry. A little old lady answered the door. There was something oddly familiar about her.  
“Come in,” she squeaked. “Come in, and let’s get down to business.”   
She stepped away from the door to allow them entrance. Rebecca and Jean exchanged puzzled glances, but followed the woman inside. The door opened onto a large hallway with a staircase on the right.  
“Let’s convene in the living room and we can discuss a plan of attack.”  
They followed her through a door on the left. The living room was beautiful with large oak wood panels and big open fireplace. There were two plush arm chairs and a sofa surrounding a coffee table. The woman sat on the armchair, and Jean and Rebecca took the sofa.  
“Thank you for your prompt arrival, Lieutenants.” The voice suddenly sounded less feminine and more masculine.  
“Fuhrer!” Both Jean and Rebecca exclaimed simultaneously and scrabbled to salute.  
“At ease!” He looked down at his dress and chuckled. “I wear it well, I know. In fact the last time I wore a dress young Mustang was an incorrigible flirt.”  
Rebecca stifled a smile; she had known that was something a little off apart from the overdone rouge.   
The door creaked open and a young officer Rebecca recognised from HQ walked in. He was in civilian clothing and was bearing a tray with teapot and three cups, along with a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar cubes. He laid the tray on the table. Under his arm, he carried a folder which he put down on Grumman’s side of the table.  
“Thank you, Simmons,” Grumman said to to the officer. “If you’ll leave us I have much to discuss with these two.”  
“Let me know if you need me, sir.” He saluted the Fuhrer and nodded at the two lieutenants before leaving the room.   
Once the door closed behind the officer, Grumman spoke.  
“Now, could one of you sprightly young folk pour me a nice cup of tea.” He kicked off his shoes. “These truly are murder.”  
Jean leaned forward and poured three cups of tea. “How do you like your tea, sir?”  
“Milk and two sugars.”  
Rebecca added the milk and sugar into Grumman’s cup. She pushed the cup across the table towards him.  
“Thank you my dear.” Grumman shoved his spectacles further up his nose. “Now to business.”  
As always with Fuhrer Grumman, he could switch persona like the flick of of a switch.  
The transformation was startling, the Fuhrer’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses, his fingers steepled and he sat up straight. Somehow, he managed to look impressive even in his costume.  
“Have you read through the documents?”  
Rebecca nodded as did Jean.   
“Good – you know that you will be posing as a married couple.”  
“Have you a plan in mind, sir?”  
“Indeed I do, but everything will be on a need to know basis.” He paused for a moment and sipped at his tea. “We have a number of suspects that are being closely watched, but we must be careful in case we have a mole.”  
“A mole?” Rebecca raised an eyebrow.  
Grumman sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, it’s looking increasingly likely.”  
“Fuck!” Jean reached for his pocket. “Mind if I have a smoke, sir?”  
Grumman waved his concern away.   
“I need you two to suss out some potential leads for me. The man they are hoping to secure release for is Adriijan Ivanovitch. We know of an empty warehouse belonging to a known friend of Ivanovitch they are hoping to free as well as a penthouse apartment being let to one of his associates.” Grumman rifled through the folder on the table and handed them a scribbled note with the two addresses. “I want you to stake them out. Both appear to be empty, but proceed carefully. I don’t have to tell you not to get caught.”  
“No sir,” they chorused.  
Jean was tapping his foot on the ground, a sure sign of his unease.  
“There was some information I was unwilling to share with Madam Christmas, but I think you both need to know. The letter that I received yesterday included a bloody pair of ignition gloves.”  
“To immobilise him,” Rebecca said.  
Her stomach felt sick at the thought. Wasn’t that what the Homunculi had done to him on the Promised Day?  
“A picture also arrived this morning.” He took a picture from the folder. “I thought you two should take a look at it.”  
Rebecca took the picture from his outstretched hand and gasped. Riza and Mustang were sitting back to back, their hands and legs bound to the chairs they sat on. One of Mustang’s eyes was swollen shut. Riza appeared unharmed apart from a small cut just above her eye. A newspaper was placed on the floor between them bearing the previous day’s date.  
Jean looked over her shoulder. “At least they’re still alive.”  
Eager to be relieved of the photograph, she handed it back to Grumman.  
“They are not gong to kill them,” she said with more conviction than she felt. “They are too valuable.”  
“I hope you’re right, my dear.”   
For the first time, she noticed the redness around his eyes. The performance of Fuhrer with everything under control was clearly taxing him. She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to be strong, that they were all in this together, but it wasn’t her place. Besides, it would be a lie. He had more than just the responsibility of a worried grandfather; he also had to answer for the whole of Amestris.  
“How did this happen? You can’t just kidnap the Hawk’s Eye and the Flame Alchemist.”  
“Foul play,” Grumman answered. “The cowards could not take them on one on one, so they took precautions.” He pinched his nose before continuing. “We checked the contents of Riza’s glass. We believe she may have been drugged with a sleeping pill.”  
“That would explain how they got in without her shooting them,” Rebecca mused. “But the mess?”  
“They also found traces of chloroform, which they may used to subdue her if she woke.”  
“But how did they get her out without being seen?” Jean asked.  
“That I can’t say, but there is a private staff only elevator that leads down to the cellar.”  
The tension in the air was heavy.  
“What if we don’t find them in time, sir?” Jean asked.  
“Then we’ll have to give them what they want,” Grumman said quietly. “And I’ll step down as Fuhrer the moment they are returned.”

  
**To be continued…**


End file.
